


Paternal Instinct

by Krit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Peter feels for days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:32:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krit/pseuds/Krit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has the flu. Peter has a soft spot for Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paternal Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little fluff piece I wrote up from a plot bunny I’ve had hopping around lately.
> 
> It stars Peter Hale and Stiles Stilinski but is not a slash fic. I know, I know. I’ll be getting to those at a later time.
> 
> There’s also a little game I like to play with my fics sometimes. It’s called, spot the Buffy quote/reference.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. I’m easing my way back into writing. I swear I used to be good at this. I think I still am. Let me know.

Stiles wasn’t sure how he ended up in the cemetery. He remembered his father letting him stay home from school. He remembered the doctor telling him he had the flu. He knew it was light out when he went to bed and dark when he woke up. He remembered walking out the door. A blur of street lamps and dogs barking. But he couldn’t remember his feet touching the ground or deciding where to go. The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of his mother’s grave. Then he was sitting. Then he was lying down. His face in the wet grass and his fingers touching the cold stone. Then he was looking at the stars. Floating on his back in the air. But he wasn’t floating. There were arms wrapped around him. Someone was carrying him. They were saying something. He couldn’t make out who it was or what they were saying. He didn’t care. His head hurt.

“Shhh. Hospital Zone. No Singing.”

He pressed his face against the warm body and drifted back off. When he came to again he was in a bed, covered in blankets. Someone was sitting on the bed next to him, and a hand was patting his cheek, and he could smell something that was trying to smell like cherries near his nose.

“Come on little one. This will help.”

Stiles forced his eyes open again. When his vision focused the face in front of him, he was sure he was still delirious.

“Oh yay. Add hallucinating to the list.”

“You’re not hallucinating, now drink this.” Peter lifted Stiles’ head and pressed the cup of NyQuil to his lips. “There you go. I know it tastes nasty, but it will help.”

“Can’t taste it. Where are we?”

“My apartment.” Peter tossed the empty medicine cup in the garbage and dried the sweat off of Stiles’ forehead with a washcloth. “Did you think I lived in a hollowed out tree?”

“Nope. Underground cave. What time is it?”

“About three in the morning. I called Scott and he texted your father telling him you’re at his house.” Peter put two pills on the nightstand next to a glass of water. “Take those in the morning. If you need anything, I’ll be in the living room. Now get some sleep.” Peter tucked the blankets in around Stiles and kissed his forehead before getting up walking towards the door.

“I’m not her.” Stiles murmured. His head was getting fuzzier but he could see Peter stop, his hand freezing on the light switch.

“Excuse me?” He asked without turning back around.

“Hannah.” Stiles watched Peter’s hand move across the wall and curl around the door frame. “She was your daughter, right? I read the file when my dad was investigating the fire. She was eight years old so… She’d be about my age by now, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes. Just about.” Peter whispered, turning to look back at Stiles with a sad smile. “You would have liked her. She was a hyper little thing. Always running around and climbing on everything. A permanent smile on her face. And yes. You remind me of her.”

“Is that why you’re so nice to me? Even when you were all crazy and killing people, you told me you liked me, and offered to turn me. You stick up for me to the rest of the pack. And now tonight. I’m not her.”

“I know that. Hannah’s dead. I watched her die. I know she’s gone. I don’t have a daughter anymore, but I’m still a father. I took an interest in you because you remind me of her, yes. But you know… I loved being a dad. I was really good at it too. I read bed time stories and used different voices for the characters. I helped with homework. I made fantastic big breakfast every Sunday morning. I gave good advice and could chase tears away in minutes. I helped catch fireflies and could play pretend with the best of them. I can’t get back the past. My little girl is never coming back and the man I was is just as gone. But I still remember. The instinct is still there. Now…” He cleared his throat and turned off the light. “Go to sleep. Sweet dreams little one.”

Stiles drifted back asleep and had very sweet dreams. Dreams of his mother’s laugh and a little girl with brown hair and blue eyes.

He woke with the sun warm on his face through the window. When he sat up and took the pills Peter had left him, he saw a photo on the nightstand. It was wrinkled and singed around the edges. A younger looking Peter was grinning at the camera. A beautiful woman standing next to him and a little girl in his arms. They were standing in front of a lake. In the background, a teenaged boy and girl with black hair were shooting each other with water guns and a man who looked like an older version of Peter was setting up a sail boat. Stiles shook his head, trying to imagine what their lives were like. Maybe he could get Peter to tell him. He still felt groggy, but his head was nowhere near as fuzzy as it had been the night before. He stood up and only felt a little bit dizzy. As his stomach growled, the smell of pancakes and bacon wafted in from the kitchen, followed by strong coffee. If Peter wanted to reclaim his parenting chops, Stiles wasn’t going to stop him. In fact, in light of Peter’s homicidal tendencies, maybe encouraging his paternal instincts was a good idea. A responsible act for the good of all that could save lives. And if Stiles got well fed in the process, that was just a positive side effect.


End file.
